Hagrid - Blood Will Tell
by SoulSurvivor
Summary: What if Hagrid were not so gentle a giant?
1. The stone is tossed

Insert Standard Disclaimer here

A/N: To be honest, I really don't know where this one may go, if anywhere. The idea simply came to me out of nowhere and would not let go.

* * *

The guard was unhappy. Actually, he was royally pissed, in both the british and american definitions of the word. He had been drinking on duty since the word came down from DMLE. They were letting the half breed bastard go.

It was an insult is what it was, a slap in the face to all wizards everywhere. A Giant! In Hogwarts! Around pureblood children no less... What the hell were they thinking? Keeping a bloodthirsty beast like that with children, they were damn lucky only one person had died.

The more he stewed on it, the worse he felt, these people were blind it seemed, blind to the danger they were exposing their children to... A girl had died dammit! Who knew what depravities a foul beast like that had subjected her to before finishing her off? Why couldn't those idiots in the ministry see? Were they so blinded by that muggle loving bastard Dumbledore? They had the giant here, they had the dementors here... Why couldn't the pansies finish the job?

Righteous indignation and firewhiskey make a rather potent mix, when one adds the general negative atmosphere that surrounded the island prison, it made for rather questionable decision making.

Dawn had not yet arrived when the guard found himself outside of the beasts cell, staring with hatred at the figure huddled within. Ever so quietly he slipped his key in the lock and slowly turned it till the latch released. Looking in, he could see that the beast still slept, and with any luck, by the time Dumbledore and his cronies arrived, the beast would stay asleep forever.

* * *

All thru his young life, Rubeus Hagrid had been known for his gentle caring nature, to those that knew him, it was his defining characteristic. As a child, he had only his father as an example, and aside from an odd taste in women, his father was known as a good man. He was the type of wizard who would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, and these were the values that he taught his son.

Like his father, Hagrid had his quirks. Where his father liked large women, Rubeus liked dange... err misunderstood animals, and had a habit of keeping odd pets. Aside from that, he was a quiet and kindly soul who wouldn't harm a fly under most circumstances.

However, the purebloods had one thing mostly right, and that was that blood would tell. Under years of conditioned behavior, there was a giant, a being known for immense strength and violent rages. Like a certain comic book character, giants were known to get stronger the angrier they got and were not known for feeling fear.

That last characteristic was one of the few that bled thru Hagrids psyche, the lack of fear. It was what allowed him to play with things like acromantulas with no concern for his own safety. Not to say he wasn't careful, for while he was afraid of nothing personally, he had grown up worried about hurting others, that his strength might one day get the better of him and that someone or something that he cared about would get hurt.

While others relived their worst fears in the presence of dementors, Hagrid got to get a taste of his mothers heritage, to feel a giants rage boiling beneath the surface of his psyche. But he was strong in more ways than one, he could keep the beast in it's cave and simply huddle like the rest of the prisoners waiting for the foul creatures to go by.

Strong tho he may be, everybody has their limits, everyone has a snapping point when self control is simply not an option. For Hagrid, waking up to a dementor trying to suck out his soul was such a point. Where a human would have been overwhelmed with terror and hopelessness, unable to do more than whimper, Hagrid snapped.

Gone was the gentle and oftentimes shy boy that was his fathers pride and joy, in its place was his mothers son, a giant enraged. His muscles fueled by a mixture of adrenaline and angry magic, he pushed the dementor up off of him, then kicked it thru his cell door, which unfortunately for the creature had swung back closed after it had entered, and into the wall opposite his cell.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had a bad feeling. He wasn't sure what it was, but something was wrong. He'd had this feeling from the moment he'd been greeted at the jetty by the guard on duty. The man had a smug self satisfied air about him that set his teeth on edge. It had taken a lot of work to get Hagrid freed, but between testimony by the healer at St Mungo's that had examined Myrtle, the testimony of his own Care of Magical Creatures Professor, and ironically enough, Tom Riddles own testimony and description of Hagrids pet acromantula, he had pulled it off.

When a wizard with a Mastery in CoMC told the jury that it was impossible for an acromantula to have been responsible for Myrtle's death, it created just enough of a schism to have the conviction overturned, tho they had upheld the expulsion on the grounds that while not Slytherin's monster, an acromantula was still a very dangerous creature that should never have been brought into the school, and unfortunately for Hagrid, he had no argument for that one. Now here he was, ready to pick up his wayward student and take him out of this hellhole, and now he had a sick feeling in his gut that something was wrong.

The guard was taking his time, anticipating the look on the old meddlers face when he found his pet monster minus a soul. The concept of being caught or blamed for this never even crossed his mind, as this would not be the first time one of the guests had an unexpected snog with a guard... This was Azkaban after all, and sometimes, accidents happened.

Timing is everything at times. A little earlier and Dumbledore would have driven off the creature with his patronus. A little later and the only witnesses to what happened next would never have been believed. They, however, arrived just in time to see a large cloaked figure fly out of Hagrids cell, obviously not of it's own volition, its passage tearing the cell door from it's mooring to be pinned against the wall by the creature.

Following the dementor was Hagrid himself, but Hagrid as Albus had never seen him. Roaring with fury the half-giant threw the dementor down the hall where it rolled to a stop less than 10 feet in front of their group. Pausing only to gather the wrecked remains of the iron door, the half giant charged down the hall towards them with madness in his eyes.

Grabbing the guard before he could do something stupid like attack the crazed half-giant, Dumbledore quickly dissilusioned them both and pulled them back and to one side. He needn't have bothered, for as far as Hagrid was concerned, the wizards in the hall did not exist, all that existed was the dementor that had attacked him.

Dementors had been the guards of Azkaban for about as long as anybody could really remember, and an almost unknown fact was that they were the reason all of the bars were made of cold forged iron. Distantly related to dark fae, the dementors were slightly weak against the material, weak as in it could actually do them harm. Unlike their distant cousins, its touch was not harmful or fatal, but, given the right circumstances, a weapon made of cold iron could actually put one down. Admittedly, it still took a tremendous amount of damage to kill one of the beasts, more damage than your average human was capable of dishing out.

A berserk half-giant with an iron door on the other hand...

The group watched in horrified fascination as the supposedly unkillable being was beaten to a pulp before their eyes, the euphamism quite literal in this case, as by the time the giant began to calm down, the dementor was little more than unrecognizable lump that had been beaten into the stone floor of the prison hall. Breathing raggedly and still not quite home, Hagrid bent down and pulled up the remains of the being by its ragged cloak. Shaking the cloak a bit to dislodge the remaining lumps of what was once one of the prisons feared guards, he casually threw it on over his broad sholders, not even noticing how it expanded to fit his frame.

Finally taking note of Dumbledore who's spell had dropped from shock, he glanced over at the guard, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish.

"Ehh... Sorry 'bout the door there... Caught me off guard it did... If yeh got some tools im sure I could have it fixed up in a jiffey..." taking a closer look at the mangled remains of said door at his feet he continued. "Err... Maybeh not a jiffey... Errmm... I'll just head back to meh cell now..." With that he turned on his heel and suited action to words.

Needless to say, the other dementors attracted by the noise and violence were very quick to get out of his way.


	2. The first ripples

Insert standard disclaimer

* * *

The early evening of new years eve saw an odd figure making it's way thru the streets of Hogsmead. That the folks who lived on the outskirts of Britain's premier (only) school of magic found the figure to be odd was saying quite a bit, really. At close to 8 feet tall, the figure stood head and shoulders above the milling populace, which was striking in and of itself. Add to that was the seemingly ragged yet at the same time intact hooded cloak that shrouded the figure from head to foot in an inky blackness that was more the absence of light and color than any shade found in nature.

Amongst the crowd there were those who either from employment or poor luck in illegal dealings, knew exactly what that cloak was. A few of the former even knew who was wearing it, as certain stories made themselves known from guard shift to guard shift, as for the latter of those in the know however... Well they didn't really want to know... Actually all they really wanted was a drink and access to the nearest privy, not necessarily in that order.

Some cleared out, some stepped aside, most simply stared, but none stood between the figure and its apparent goal, as it slogged its way towards the road to Hogwarts.

Oblivious for the most part to the reactions of those he passed, Hagrid made his way toward his appointment with Dumbledore, his dementor cloak wrapped around him for warmth. Odd as it was, the thin material of the cloak was almost impervious to changes in temperature, keeping the wearer, in this case, him, in a constant 60-65 degrees or so. While this may be a bit chilly for some, it suited him just fine and was a damn sight better than the sub-zero scottish weather he was walking thru at the moment.

Also, while the cloak may draw some looks, what he was wearing under it would draw more, and he wasn't quite ready for those looks yet.

He was still having a hard time believing the pickle he was in, and once again swore to avoid alcohol, whether it be wizarding or muggle.

It had started innocently enough, shortly after he'd been released, he'd just needed to get away from all the folks staring at him. He could feel their eyes following him wherever he went, accusing him silently of all manner of imagined atrocities. People would shy away from him on the street, sometimes going so far as to cross the street so as to not be close to him. It was like they could feel the beast that had been let loose that morning in his cell, said beast would no longer stay quietly in its cave and he was having a harder time than normal keeping himself in check.

It of course never once occurred to him that folks would find ANYBODY who pranced around in a dementors cloak just a bit intimidating. Especially since a certain guard spent a lot of time earning free drinks by retelling the tale of 'The Crazy Giant and The Squashed Dementor', thus insuring that the entirety of Hogsmead knew how he had obtained it.

It didn't take more than a day or so of this before he found himself in muggle london, at least there any stares he got were due to his height, and the majority of folks simply pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary... They were british after all.

The good thing about being over 7 foot in muggle london was that nobody questioned his right to drink, and that evening found him in a pub surrounded by folks with the most amazing tales about the muggle war. They were soldiers on furlough mixed in with new recruits and local boys looking to get in. Along with the stories, songs and general tomfoolery there was something else, a camaraderie that appealed to his fathers son mixed in with a general agressiveness and lust for action that appealed to the beast in the cave that was his mothers legacy.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but on reflection, so had Aragog and look where that got him. Well, hopefully Dumbledore could help him find a way out of this mess, otherwise, who knew what could happen...

Finally reaching the gates of Hogwarts, almost as if summoned by the thought, he found himself greeted by his former head of house.

"Hagrid, good to see you! I was wondering where you had gotten off to. " The transfiguration professor looked him up and down for a moment. "Well, you seem fully recovered from your ordeal, this is good! Still keeping that cloak I see... Where are my manners, come my boy, come inside out of this snow"

Feeling like a first year, the half-giant quietly followed his former professor thru the school to the mans office. Once they were settled down, Dumbledore addressed him once more.

"I've spoken to headmaster Dippet Hagrid, and I do believe I may have found a way for you to remain at Hogwarts. Not as a student, mind you, but it will at least give a place to stay and some income as well"

Noting that his former pupil was not showing the interest in the offer that he had anticipated, more so, he seemed somewhat depressed instead, is voice reflected a hint of concern.

"Is everything alright Hagrid? I had thought you would be happy to stay here."

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the young man took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying. "Well yer see perfessor, that part of the reason I came to see ya... I'm ina tiny bit of a bind you see..." Pausing a bit to steel himself, the finally unwrapped his cloak allowing Dumbledore to see what was underneath. "As much as I would love to werk here at Hogwarts, I have sumthin of a prior commitment that I'm kinda stuck with."

Dumbledore had lived a rather long and fruitful life up to this point, and was quite sure that there was very little in this world that could shock him. However, Hagrid in a british army dress uniform apparently landed squarely in the 'shocking' category. For a moment all he could do was stare openmouthed as his former student shifted nervously from foot to foot, finally after a sip of tea to moisten his suddenly dry throat he managed to speak.

"Hagrid, wha.. What have you done?"

"Err... I've been tryin ta figure that one out meself for a bit now. Ya see, I met up with these fellows in london a while back, just ended up spendin time with them. It were nice ya know, they never asked questions, assumed I was a farmboy from me speach an' lack o' muggle schoolin. I just kinda got caught up in the flow of things as it were... Next thing ya know we're enlisted and in trainin... Lemme tell you, those muggles, they gotta learn a lot to go out and fight, tho they got this thing with marchin all the time... Anyway, long and short of it, Im supposed to report to the station on the third to ship out, and I dont know how ta get outa it."

Shaking his head, Dumbledore fixed the young giant with a hard glare. "Well, at least you came to your senses and realized what a huge mistake you've made. I'm guessing that there is a reason you are not using the simplest method of avoiding this, i.e. Simply not showing up on the third. It is not as if they can track you here or that you have any real reason to be in the muggle world."

Unable to meet the teachers eyes, Hagrid mumbled something under his breath. At Dumbledores request to speak up, he finally looked the professor in the eye.

"Tell me perfessor, didya know that all muggle soldiers swear an oath? I sure didn't. I also didn't know that if a wizard means it, REALLY means it at the time, ye don't need a wand to make it stick"

The older mans eyebrows shot into his hairline at this tidbit "An Oath? Are you sure it was binding?"

"Aye. An oath of fealty to the king of england and his heirs and obedience to the officers he appoints over me. I felt it take professor, I can still feel it... Until my term of service is over, I'm stuck with this unless ye know of a way out."

Even as he finished, Dumbledore was already chanting and gesturing with his wand, and Hagrids hopes sank as the frown on the wizards face got deeper and more pronounced. "You fool, Hagrid, you poor poor fool. You have gone and done it this time my boy, there is nothing that can be done here. What were you thinking? You had to truly have believed in what you were swearing to for something like this to have happened."

Hagrid closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Opening them, he straightened up to his full height, squared his shoulders and unconciously straightened his uniform.

"That's just the thing perfessor, I did mean it. Maybe it was the time spent with my muggle friends, maybe it was just hearin about how bad things are out there and what we're fightin for, but when I took that oath, I meant every word, and ya know what? A part of me still means it perfessor, a part of me is itchin to get on that train and show the Kings enemies whats for."

Agitated now, he began to pace the floor as the cloak responded to his mood and began to flutter in a non existant breeze.

"Somethin happened to me perfessor, when that dementer attacked me. I cant sit around no longer, I feel I have to get out, to do sumthin, to hit sumthin. And the sad thing? The muggle army? It feels like home perfessor, more like home than gryffinder tower ever did. They accept me there, no questions, no funny looks, no wondering if I'll go crazy and eat someone for a snack... I mean yeah, they still call me farmboy, but they don't mean nuthin bad by it tho. I mean I came here to see if you could fix this, more for me fathers memory than fer me, he would have been horrified at this."

He stoped pacing and met the teachers eye, there was something there, not so much hard, as firm, a resolve the normally shy giant lacked the last time they'd spoken.

"Thing is perfessor, fer me, I dont mind it so much. Kinda looking forward to knockin some heads together fer king and country and all that. Don't get me wrong now, after seein how muggles fight, I am just a tad nervous, but still, it's hard to explain, its a good kinda nervous, the kind that make yeh feel alive inside..." At this he shucked the dementors cloak off entirely and pulled the halves of his broken wand out of his pocket.

"Yeh had asked me before if ye could examin me cloak, well, ifn you can keep 'er safe fer me while I'm gone, you can examin her all ye want. And if ye could hold onto me wand as well I'd appreciate it... With me 'da gone and all I don't really have anyone else to ask ye know..."

Dumbledore accepted the cloak and wand from the nervously babbling half-giant with a sad, resigned look. "I do hope you will be careful out there my boy, war is a terrible thing to see, and even worse thing to be a part of. I will keep your things safe with me, and you will have a place here when you make it back to us. Please try to do so in one piece."

Turning to head out the door Hagrid paused and looked back. "Two more things perfessor if yeh would. They let me keep that door as a souvenir of sorts as yeh know, it's still at me da's house and I'd like it if ye could take care of that as well. Dunno what I'm gunna do with it, but I just get this feelin it might come in handy someday. And if yeh can, let me ma know I've gone to war... It'll likely make her day."

With that he left, not to be seen again by wizard kind till well after the war was over.

* * *

a/n: Well, it seems that a plot for this has wormed it's way into my head after all.


	3. Letters Home

Insert standard disclaimer.

I know this is a bit short, but the stopping point seemed to work.

* * *

Dear Perfessor Dumbldore

Our seargeant sez we hav to write letters home, sumthin 'bout it helpin morale. Well, as ye know, hogwarts is the closest to home that i've got, bein as me mother don't read. Im hopin that I got the muggleborn post address right, never thought I'd be needin this i'll tell ya.

Not much to say at this point, instead of goin ta war, it seems i'm going for MORE trainin! How do muggles manage to get any fighten done like this? Apparently we're goin to Bombay for jungle training of all things. Instead of fighten jerries, ima gonna be fighten nips it seems.

Honestly, with all this trainin, i'm beginnin ta wonder if this goin ta war thing is all it's cracked up ta be.

Hagrid

* * *

Perfessor;

Well we made it ta bombay, and i'll tell ye. I dont care if I have ta march back, but gettin me back on that boat aint happenin. I dunno if yer aware of this, but thanks to me 'ma, I don't float at all, sink like a rock I do.

Hagrid

* * *

Dear Professor

Well, I'm in Bombay, but apparently not for to much longer. I have not even been to the jungle training camp and I am already being reassigned.

I suppose it started when the I got called into Sgt Smythe's office shortly after we got here. As it turns out, Sgt Smythe is a squib who's been in the army since the last war, and he figured me out right quickly.

The lads get a few days liberty here in Bombay before we are to march on to the training camp, and sometimes things can get a little rowdy with the locals. Smythe tasked me with keeping an eye on things as with my size and strength it would be easy to break up any fights that might start.

All was well, till we had a fellow miss roll call the next morning. According to his friends, he went into the market area looking for local tobacco, so Smythe told me to go find him, or at least find out what happened to him. You see, men had been turning up missing every so often for the last few months now and none of the locals were talking.

Well, while I was looking through the market, I saw something that struck me as odd. A fellow got grabbed and dragged into an alleyway, and nobody seemed to notice that anything was wrong.

Well I walked over, and wouldn't you know, apparently Bombay has it's own Diagon Alley, well, closer to Knockturn in this case but still. Someone it seemed was taking advantage of the anti muggle charms to grab unsuspecting folks off the street. Mind you, they were dragging a screaming muggle down the street and these folks didn't even bat an eye.

I will give Bombays magicals this much though, they didn't bat an eye at me either.

Apparently nobody cares, as the fellows doing the dragging didn't seem to care that I was following them. We got to an open market area where they dumped the muggle in a pen with several others including the lad that I had been looking for to begin with. When I asked what was going on, they told me that the muggles were going to be auctioned off when some local farm owners arrived later that week.

As you might guess, I had a bit of a problem with that. When I tried explaining to the fellow that was running things that he couldn't sell the muggles, he pulled a wand and tried to stun me. So I hit him.

Ok, I admit it, I got mad and hit him harder than I should have, but on the bright side i did find something out. Apparently a wand does not really care how you win it, and shattering someones ribs with your fist counts as winning a duel.

Well, after the fellow went down, this hag started yelling and waving this statue around and I figured out why I'd been getting so mad all of the sudden, as of all things a dementor comes out of her hut and towards me.

I'm ashamed to say I lost it at that point, and I honestly can't tell you what happened next. All I know is that when I came to, I was at the other end of the market, there wasn't an intact stall in sight, and I was holding another cloak. I think I have a problem with dementors sir, and I truly hope to never see another of those things again.

When it was all said and done, no one tried to stop me when I let the muggles go, and I even got a local wizard to obliviate the lad I'd been sent to retrieve, convinced him that he'd had a little much to drink and dropped him with the unit.

Apparently my tantrum had an additional effect though, as the next morning, every one of our boys that had gone missing showed up at the docks with no memory of how they'd gotten there or where they'd been.

And so I'm being reassigned. Apparently the local guild representative contacted Smythe and stated that our boys would be off limits so long as I was shipped out of India. Apparently my beating a dementor to death (are they even alive?) and destroying the marketplace upset them a bit. Now, I get to escort the boys back home so they can be checked out by doctors, then I will get new orders. Also Smythe asked me to pass along a request to you, he would like ministry obliviators to check the boys out on the side to make sure the locals didn't mess up their heads to badly.

I hope you like my spelling and grammar, as Smythe made me write my report and this letter over and over again all night till he was satisfied with it.

My hand hurts;

Hagrid

ps. I'm going to be sending the cloak and the hags statue to you while I'm in London, and I was wondering if you could check the cloak out. It doesn't fit like my first one or keep me comfortable at all. If I didn't know any better I would say it was normal cloth. As for the statue, you can keep that or break it. Aside from my cloak, I want nothing to do with those nasty beasties.

* * *

Professor;

I write this as I sit once more on this god forsaken boat on my way back home. Smythe has pulled some strings to get me assigned with a relative of his in Scotland, a Frank Smythe who runs some sort of mountain training camp in Braemar. The Sgt seems to feel that my giant heritage will serve me in good stead or something, and that his cousin will help me move a bit quieter. I'll believe that when I see it.

I will meet up with your man at the leaky as soon as I am free to do so, hopefully the locals did the job right, but you never know.

Well, it seems that your owl is getting impatient, so I will wrap this up.

Hating the open water;

Hagrid

* * *

Professor;

I don't suppose I can count on you to hide me after I murder Sgt Smythe? As it turns out, his 'mountain training camp' is in actuality the Commando Mountain and Snow Warfare training camp, also lovingly known as hell on earth. I cannot believe he sent me here. Then again, after the handwriting fiasco I should have known the man was a sadist.

Still, it is not all that bad, and with the war starting to wind down, it seems that i'm going to be here for a while.

Bored and Annoyed;

Hagrid

* * *

Professor;

It seems that the sergeants gall knows no bounds. Here I thought that I was here for training and possibly a post to end my enlistment in.

No such luck it would seem.

What I want to know is how a bloody Yeti made its way into the highlands. Yes, a bloody Yeti! Which I might add hits really damn hard and don't appreciate it when you get between it and the trainee it wants to eat. Not one of my brighter moments I will freely admit. On the other hand, Mr. Yeti did not appreciate it when I introduced it to the Brem light machine gun they had me training on.

The only real upside to this place is access to Hogsmeade and the ability send you the Yeti hide now that I have properly tanned it.

Unless I miss my guess, I will be shipping out soon. I'm beginning to realize that there is a rather extensive network of squibs in the army and I feel that I am likely going to end up someplace with a problem the muggles cant handle. Not quite what I envisioned when I signed up, but I find my need for action is being slowly sated.

Bruised but Wiser

Hagrid


End file.
